


i saw her

by shayDHo



Category: Portrait de la jeune fille en feu | Portrait of a Lady on Fire (2019)
Genre: Angst, F/F, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24747415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shayDHo/pseuds/shayDHo
Summary: The last time Héloïse and Marianne saw each other and the last time Héloïse saw her.
Relationships: Héloïse & Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire), Héloïse/Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	1. One last time

"Turn around." And she did. I looked at Marianne one last time. Attempted to take her in one last time.

Her big hazel eyes (eyes that I spent nights carving every emotion, painting every colour in my memory) shined with the bright light of the of the outside and the unshed tears. Her mouth was open; she breathed through it, then closed. Her jaw was tight; her chest, heaving (from her rushed descent or the emotions in her heart, I do not know) as we looked at each other. She stood with one foot outside the underworld with her brown coat on, and I was on top of a flight of stairs that may as well be the deepest chasm in Hades' realm in my wedding dress. 

We breathed together once. _I am here. I hear you. I see you._

Twice. _I'll remember you in my heart, in my soul. I will never forget._

Thrice. _I love you. I love you. I love you._

And Marianne turned around again, stepped outside, and shut the door. The light went with her, the house (my world, our paradise) plunged into darkness, and we were pulled apart once more.

In the dark, I saw nothing but her last image, heard nothing but my thundering heart, and felt nothing but the wrenching and ripping in my chest. I didn't fall to my knees nor ran towards the door. I feared that one movement would break this timeless moment, that the earth would spin again if I do so much as breathe. So I stood there like a statue, a static apparition. For that was what I am, in that moment: unmoving, numb, and lost.

Until the sound of a door closing somewhere in the chateau.

And I fell, hands clasped over my chest, and felt everything. The slight breeze from the door, the moisture at the back of my neck and my palms, the heavy weight of the sea crushing my heart, the rush of blood in my veins. I screamed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to pull an 'I saw her one last time. She didn't see me.' with Héloïse since it's been nagging me from the back of my head lol
> 
> English isn't my first language and I know there are errors and inconsistencies out there somewhere so comments on errors and how to improve them are very much appreciated


	2. a first time

_I saw her again._

It was a hot summer day. The family estate was empty save for the occasional bustles of the maids and gardeners. María and her father were away to visit my mother-in-law in the other side of the city. They weren't expected before sunset and I had the estate to myself. On days like this, the staff knew not to knock on my door unless it was of great importance. Only Sophie was allowed to accompany me and cater to my needs. This setup was a great cover for whatever I had planned to do. Stefan mistook my aloofness and absence to adjustment. I was a foreigner in a country who spoke a foreign tongue. Three years and a child later, however, he knew that it wasn't the case. Still, he left me alone. He owed me that much.

Sophie knocked on my door. The hallways were empty, she said. I got up from my chair and unconsciously fiddled with the white piece of clothe wrapped around my head. It had been more than a year since Sophie suggested these excursions. She sensed I needed an escape from this mansion (or prison when the days are heavy) and with her talented hand, sewed me a simple dress. Well made but not suspiciously so as to not garner attention.

I opened the door and greeted Sophie silently. The hallways were empty, yes, but we walked with stealth that would've made ghosts envious. We arrived at the kitchen's backdoor. There, Sophie gave me the key and wished me safety. She needn't worry still she insisted on such things. I care for you, Héloïse, she had said when I pried. With a last smile from me, I stepped into the dark corridor.

It was a breath of freedom when I finally reached the other door. With a slight shake of the key Sophie gave me, the world opened before me. There were no people walking in these parts at this time. Perfect. I walked the few streets to get to my destination. The market was the same as I had last seen it but at the same time, different. Pedestrians walked on the sidewalks and talked to themselves; servants and runners from other noble houses negotiated with the merchants; and the street musicians played another lively tune. With my clothes, no one had spared me a single glance even when I walked in front of them. 

There was a fountain in the middle of the bustling that I always frequent and my feet unconsciously made their way there. As I walked, I watched the various trinkets, wares and the people. The years of roaming developed a habit of people-watching. The expressions, the crossed and snapping fingers, unfocused and gleaming eyes, the beads of sweat on their foreheads as they argue for a better deal. It was fascinating. And that was when I saw her.

The crowd was thick and bustling because it was a market day but everything seemed to blur out and slow down. Marianne was sitting on the edge of the fountain with her easel in front of her and a palette filled with colors. She stood out like a sore thumb but still blended perfectly with the background. The hustle and bustle of our surroundings and the afternoon sunlight seemed to highlight just how graceful she moved her paint-stained hand over her canvas. The look of concentration on her face was a sight I thought I would never see again. But here was Marianne. In the flesh. A few paces away from the spot I was rooted in. Something (a child, a merchant, or a run away swine perhaps) bumped my shoulder and my senses snapped back to reality. 

Marianne is here in Milan.

Marianne is here.

_Marianne._

Her name ran around my head to the thundering beat of my heart that overwhelmed my ears. My chest was heavy, palm sweaty. Should I go to her? If so, what should I say? Would she even talk to me? 

_Go! Talk to her! Move your feet, Héloïse!_

One step. Two. Three. I stopped.

Marianne was still a distance away from me but the dark look that passed by her face didn't go unnoticed from my trained eyes. 

The same look she had on the night we whispered memories of our love to each other.

The same look she had when she told me she loved me.

The same look that I knew I mirrored on that night and had every night afterwards.

The darkness didn't last long. The tender curl on her lips showed slight lines I knew weren't there the last time. Time had been kind to her.

Then it clicked.

My heart thundered once more and I put a hand on my chest. Not in an attempt to surpress, but instead to feel. To revel in the realization that even after all these years, my heart beat the same way it did for her.

_She's painting me. She's thinking of me. She remembers._

The curl transformed into that beaming smile she did when she was experiencing the greatest of joys. My heart fluttered and I broke into a smile of my own.

_She's happy._

She dropped the hand that held the brush and leaned back slightly. She nodded slightly to herself, satisfied with what she made. She looked at the canvas for a long time and looked up towards the sky as a slight breeze ruffled the small hairs that escaped her updo. She breathed in and out. A glimmer on her cheeks.

_She didn't see me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This honestly took me more time to write than I thought it would. Im sorry if it's all over the place.


End file.
